Am I here? If a tree falls in the forest? If a comatose woman doesn’t wake when her fiancé confesses his two-year affair with a gay lover does that mean she is really gone?

Maybe if I’d known in the beginning. We could have started from there, worked through the issue, or not. At least it would have been the truth.

Maybe if I had been myself from the beginning, he would have told me the truth.

Which comes first?

How am I feeling?

Where am I going?

Brett goes to the couch, lies down, and puts his cap over his eyes. Tears stream down the sides of his face. He covers himself with his jacket and rocks back and forth. I never knew Brett was capable of expressing such deep feelings. I long to put my arms around him and tell him that I love him. And that I am proud of him for being so brave.

One thing was for sure though: Brett wouldn’t have told me if he thought I could hear him.

There is a tap tap on the door and Nurse Dani pops her coppery head in. “Hey, you. Welcome back!” she says, equal parts cheer and sympathy.

Brett does not sit up. He does not invite her in. Instead, he puts up a hand and waves her out of the room.

SLOW DISSOLVE TO:

INT. BEL AIR MANSION

ANNA AND SIDNEY’S BEDROOM

NIGHT

SFX: PHONE RINGING

“Jackie, it’s me.”

“Who is this?”

“Anna!” she whispered, “I need to talk.”

“Anna, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t say anymore, he’s coming.”

Something was very wrong. I sped around the curves of Coldwater Canyon until I arrived at the Mausoleum gates. I pressed the special security code and let myself in. No sooner had I shut the front door than I saw my father descend the staircase in his trademark silk robe.

“So, you heard,” he said gravely.

“What is it, Daddy?”

“It’s cancer. I’m dying,” he said simply.

I reached out for something to hold onto, but with nothing there, I sat on the marble floor. Anna rushed in and saw me, my legs splayed out in front of me like a child playing a game of roll the ball.

“You told her?” she said to my father. “Just like that!”

“Well, you called her in the middle of the night!” Their voices came in waves. I hadn’t quite fainted, but I wasn’t quite all there either.

“Did you tell her everything?”

“Mostly,” he said.

What else could there be? He was dying.

“Did you tell her the good part?”

“The good part?” I asked weakly.

“Yeah. Well,” my father said, “the good part is that even though it’s stage-two prostate, the doctor says I should have a full recovery.”

“What?” I shook my head in disbelief. “How could you do that to me?”